I had a dream about Hugh Hefner last night.
OK, I may be watching too many Girls Next Door reruns, but I'm completely fascinated with those three girls. I mean Hef redefines Sugar Daddy in a colossal way.
Yes, I know Holly left Hef for Cris Angel (I can't even comment on that at this point) and Kendra is marrying a football player, but because it's just TV to me, I just keep on watching and playing along like it's made up ... because really, who lives like that?
Oh right, Hef and his girlfriends.
I'm just going to gloss over the creepiness of the octogenarian "dating" multiple hot chicks young enough to be his granddaughters, because he's Hef — a man who made an empire on bare boobies and what not.
Those three girls have a lifestyle that's definitely seated in the lap of luxury (and the lap of an old guy).
And what amazes me is that even though they were notable because they took their clothes off in pictures and "dated" an old dude, they came out of it appearing, at least on the surface, squeaky clean.
They seem to be nice, sweet girls living an ordinary life eating at Appleby's while showing an inordinate amount of cleavage.
So I was not surprised this morning when I remembered my Hef dream, but what was surprising was how not super glam everything was (in my dream).
I dreamed that I was visiting Hef's rustic cabin (does Hef even have a rustic cabin? I doubt it) and there was an infestation of dead bug carcasses.
Why in the name of all things fabulous would I have a dream about Hugh Hefner that included an unsavory amount of insect parts?
Oh right, because I'm a girl right here ... at my desk ... and not a girl next door.